malice and respect

on a bent knee
i look towards you
sniggering at the thought
of having a fallen man
kissing your royal feet
bringing you down to an equivalent despondence

with palms pressed
i stare you in the eye
questioning everything you ever told me
berating myself for thinking that all the good in the world
could transpire
at the flush of fingers

with a bow
i stare at your feet
wondering how the mud caked on your toecap
deserves a lesser gift of altitude
than a head
mired in lies and affectation

with a wide-armed embrace
i bury my head in your shoulder
hands clasped on your back
whispering honeyed sweets
whilst wishing desperately to grip a spire
to plunge into your physical conscience